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BOSTON: i 

ROBERTS BROTHERS, f 







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U i"4 i h :H { :i 



SUBJECTS. 

To THE ReDBEEAST 

To THE Cuckoo 
To Daffodils 

Ox THE MOEXIXO 

Ok the EvEXiyo 

Ox Time .... 

To THE Haetest Moox 

To THE Nightingale 

On his Blindness 

To Etening 

On Solitude 

HOAV DARKLY O'ER 

Stately yon vessel 
Like as a ship 
To Peace . 
The Spring 
Sweet is the Eose 
Amongst the many buds 



AUinOES. 


PAGE. 


Bampifylde 


9 


Logan 


10 


. HerricJc 


12 


. Bampfylde 


. 13 




14 


. ILUton 


. IG I 


. Kirhe White. 


17 


. Milton 


. 20 




22 


Collins 


. 23 ' 


Pope 


26 


Southey 


. 27 


■ 


. 28 


Sp)enser 


30 

; 


. Coitper 


J) 


. Fanshaivc 


32 


. Spenser 


. 33 


Broicne 


. 31 



CONTENTS A 



SUBJECTS. 
How SWEET IT IS 

Thine eyes' blue tenderness . . 

TlIT CHEEK is pale 

The kollino wheel 

The Winter Traveller .... 

How SLEEP the brave 

Description of Spring .... 

Dear chorister 

To a Brook 

WiNSLADE, thy BEECII-CAPT HILLS . . . 

To Leven Water 

Because I breathe not love . . . 

Now THE BRIGHT MORNING STAR 

To Meadoavs 

The merry cuckow . . . . . 
Fair is the rising morn . . . . 
Give me a cottage 

NoVf THE golden MORN ALOET . . . 

To THE EivER Trent .... 

During a Tempest 

Like as the culver . . . . 

On the departure oe the Nightingale . 



AUTHORS. 1 


PAGE. 


Wordsicm^th 


3J! 


Byron 


36 




37 


Spenser 


. 38 


Kirlce White 


?) 


Collins 


40 


Earl of Surrey 


41 


Drujnmond 


42 


Southey 


}j 


Warton . 


44 


Smollett 


45 


Sir Pliilip Sidney 


47 


Milton 


48 


Herrick 


)> 


Sjjenser 


51 


Soutliey 


52^ 


Kirlce White 


') 


Gray 


54 


Kirlce White 


55 


Southey 


50 


Spenser 


?j 


Charlotte Smith 


58 



••• ;^ ••• ,' i ; C O N T E N T s 

SUBJECTS. 

From you I hate been absent . . . 
To THE Evening Eainbow . 

MoENiNa 

To 'Vertue . . ■ t • 

Thrice happy he 

The Eeturn 

On the Sabbath Morning 

To the Evening Star . . . 

To A Eedbeeast 

With how sad steps .... 

May 

The garlands eade .... 

To Stella 

May Day 

On the Spring 

It is a beauteous evening 

The Hamlet 

On yonder verdant hillock 

To the Thrush 

The Shepherd, looking eastward . 
A Moonlight Night .... 
To Sleep 





»• 


AUTUORS. 


PAGE. 


Shakspeare 


59 


Southetf 


GO 


Warton 


)7 


Herbert 


63 


Driimmond 


04 


Bampfylde 


)5 


Leyden 


G6 




67 


Drummond 


68 


Sir Philip Sidney 


70 


Broione 


71 


Charlotte Smith 


72 


Johnson 


55 


Heher 


7Ji 


Gray 


76 


Wordsworth 


79 


Warton 


80 


Akenside . 


8Ji 


Burns 


85 


Wordsworth 


86 


Bloomjteld 


87 


l^ or ds worth 


88 



CONTENTS 



SUBJECTS. 

Full maky a GLORiors moii>ino 

The aveahy yeake 

Pack clouds away 

To A Mountain Daisy 

To Speing .... 

Eetibement .... 

That time of yeak 

A Happy Life .... 

The Violet .... 

Spking 

The Daisy 

To May 

Come live avitu me 

When May is in his piume 

On Cueistmas 



AUXnOES. 


PARE. 


Shakspeare 


88 


Spenser 


91 


Heyivood 


92 


Burns 


93 


Sir J. Davies 


95 


Warton, sen. 


96 


SJmhspeare 


)5 


Wotton 


. 98 


Langliorne 


. 100 


Lodge 


>) 


Glare 


. 102 


Darwin 


. 103 


Marlowe 


, 104 


Edwards 


. 105 


Bampfylde 


. 100 





Oft let me wander o'er the dewy fields, 
Where freshness breathes, and dash the trembling drops 
From the bent bush, as through the verdant maze 
Of sweet-briar hedges I pursue my walk. 

Thomson. 



" I sing of brooks, of blossoms, birds, and bowers, 
Of April, May, of June, and July flowers ; 
I sins of may-poles." 

Hekeick. 




TO THE REDBREAST. 



When that the fields put on their gay attire^ 
Thou silent sitt'st near brake or river's brim, 
Whilst the gay thrush sings loud from covert dim ; 
But when pale Winter lights the social fire. 
And meads with slime arc sprent, and ways with mire. 



ODES AND SONNETS. 



Thou charm'st us witli thy soft and solemn hymn 

From battlement^ or barn, or hay-stack trim ; 
And now not seldom tunest, as if for hire, 
Thy thrilling pipe to me, waiting to catch 

The pittance due to thy well-warbled song ; 
Sweet bird ! sing on ; for oft near lonely hatch, 

Like thee, myself have pleased the rustic throng, 
And oft for entrance, ^neath the peaceful thatch. 

Full many a tale have told, and ditty long. 

Bampfylde. 



ODE TO THE CUCKOO. 




AIL, beauteous stranger of the grove ! 

Thou messenger of Spring ! 
Now Heaven repairs thy rural seat. 

And woods thy welcome sing. 

AVhat time the daisy decks the green, 
Thy certain voice we hear ; 

Hast thou a star to guide thy path, 
Or mark the rolling year ? 

Delightful visitant ! with thee 
I hail the time of flowers, 



10 



And liear the sound of music sweet 
f From birds among the bowers. 

e 

The schoolboy, wandering through tlie wood, 

To pull the primrose gay, 
Starts, the new voice of Spring to hear, 

And imitates thy lay. 

What time the pea puts on the bloom, 

Thou fliest thy vocal vale. 
An annual guest in other lauds, 

Another Spring to hail. 

Sweet bird ! thy bower is ever green. 

Thy sky is ever clear ; 
Thou hast no sorrow in thy song. 

No winter in thy year ! 

O could I fly, I 'd fly with thee ! 

We 'd make, Avith joyful ^nng, 
Our annual visit o'er the globe. 

Companions of the Spring. 

John Logan. 



11 



ODES AND SONNETS. 




TO DAFFODILS. 

AIRE clafFodils, wc weep to see 
You haste away so soone ; 
As yet the early-rising sun 
Has not attained his noone : 
Stay, stay, 

Untill the hast'ning day 
Has run 

But to the even-song ; 
And having pray'd together, we 

"Will goe with you along ! 

We have short time to stay, as you, 
We have as short a spring, 
As quick a growth to meet decay 
As you, or any thing : 
We die. 
As your hours doe ; and drie 

Away 
Like to the summer's rainc, 
Or as the pearles of morning dew. 
Ne'er to be found again. 

Heurick. 



12 




ON THE MOIINING. 
Rings the shrill peal of dawn gay chanticleer, 
Thrice warning that the day-star climhs on high, 



13 



And pales his beam as Phoebus' car draws nigh. 
Now ere the lawns or distant cribs appear, 
Or ere the crows from wattled sheep-cote veer 

Their early flight, or wakeful herdsman's eye 

Discerns the smoky hamlet, let me ply 
My daily task, to guide the laboui'ing steer, 

Plant the low shrub, remove the unsightly mound. 
Or nurse the flower, or tend the humming swarms. 

Thus ever with the morn may I be found, 

Far from the hunter-band's discordant yell ; 

So in mv breast Content and Health shall dwell, 
And conscious Bliss, and love of Nature's charms. 

Bampfylue. 



ON THE EVENING. 

Slow sinks the glimmering beam from western sky ; 
The woods and hills, obscui'cd by evening gray, 
Vanish from mortal sight, and fade away. 

Now with the flocks and yearlings let me hie 

To farm, or cottage lone, where, perch'd hard by. 
On mossy pale the redbreast tunes his lay. 
Soft twittering, and bids farewell to day ; 

Then, whilst the watchdog barks, and ploughmen lie. 



14 




LulPd by tlic rocking Aviiuls, let me unfold 
Wliate'er in rhapsody, or strain most holy. 

The hoary minstrel sang in times of old ; 

For well I ween, from them the Nine inspire 

Wisdom shall flow, and virtue's sacred fire, 

And Peace, and love, and heavenly [Melancholy. 

Bampfylde. 



15 



ODES AND SONNETS. 



ODE ON TIME. 

Fly, envious Timc_, till tliou run out tliy race ; 

Call on the lazy leaden-stepping Horn's, 

Wliose speed is but tlie lieavy plummet^s pace ; 

And glut thyself with what thy womb devoui-s, 

Which is no more than what is false and vain. 

And merely mortal di'oss ; 

So little is our loss, 

So little is thy gain ! 

For when as each thing bad thou hast entomb'd, 

And, last of all, thy greedy self consumed. 

Then long eternity shall greet our bliss 

With an individual kiss ; 

And joy shall overtake us as a flood. 

When every thing that is sincerely good 

And perfectly di\ine. 

With truth, and peace, and love, shall ever shine 

About the supreme throne 

Of Him, to whose happy-making sight alone 

When once our heavenly-guided soul shall climb, 

Then, all this earthly grossness quit. 

Attired with stars we shall for ever sit, 

Triumphing over death, and chance, and thee, O Time. 

Milton. 



16 



,. ,sife 



^ 




ODE TO THE HARVEST .MOON, 

Moox of harvest, herald mild 
Of plenty, rustic labour's child. 
Hail ! oh hail ! I greet thy beam, 
As soft it trembles o'er the stream. 



ir 



ODES AND SONNETS. 

Aud gilds the straAv-tliatcli'd liamlet wide, 
Where iunocence and peace reside; 
'Tis thou that gladd'st with joy the rustic throng, 
Promptest the tripping dance, th' exhilarating song. 

Moon of harvest, I do love 

O'er the uplands now to rove, 

While thy modest ray serene 

Gilds the wide surrounding scene ; 

And to watch thee riding high 

In the blue vault of the sky, 
Where no thin vapour intercepts thy ray, 
But in unclouded majesty thou walkest on thy way. 

Pleasing 'tis, O modest moon ! 
Now the night is at her noon, 
'Neath thy sway to musing lie, 
While around the zephyrs sigh, 
Fanning soft the sun-tann'd wheat. 
Ripen' d by the summer's heat ; 
Picturing all the rustic's joy 
When boundless plenty greets his eye. 

And thinking soon, 

Oh, modest moon ! 
How nianv a female eve will roam 



lb 




Along the roacl^ 

To see the load^ 

The last dear load of harvest home. 

Storms and tempests, floods and rains, 

Stern despoiiers of the plains, 

Hence away, the season flee, 

Foes to light-heart jollity ; 

May no winds careering high. 

Drive the clouds along the sky ; 
But may all nature smile with aspect boon. 
When in the heavens thou show^st thy face, oh, Harvest 
Moon ! 

'Neath yon lowly roof he lies, 

The husbandman, with sleep-seal' d eyes ; 

He dreams of crowded barns, and round 

The yard he hears the flail resound ; 

Oh ! may no hurricane destroy 

His visionary views of joy : 
God of the winds ! oh, hear his humble prayer, 
And while the moon of liarvest shines, thv blust'ring 
whirlwind spare. 

Sons of luxury to you 

Leave I sleep's dull power to woo ; 



1!) 



ODES AND SONNETS. 

Press ve still the dowxiv bed, 
AVhile fev'risli dreams surround your li(nid ; 
1 Avill seek the woodland glade^ 
Penetrate the tliickest shade, 
Wrapt in contemplation's dreams, 
Musing high on holy themes, 
AVhilc on the gale 
Shall softly sail 
The nightingale's enchanting tune, 
And oft my eyes 
Shall grateful rise 
To thee, the modest Harvest Moon ! 

Henuy Kirke White. 



SONNET TO THE NIGHTINGALE. 

O nightingale, that on yon bloomy spray 
Warblest at eve, when all the woods are still. 
Thou with fresh hope the lover's heart dost fill. 

While the jolly Hours lead on propitious May. 

Thy liquid notes that close the eye of day^ 
First heard before the shallow cuckow's bill, 
Portend success in love ; O if Jove^s will 

Have linkM that amorous power to thy soft lay, 
Now timely sing, eve the rude bird of hate 



20 




Foretell my hopeless doom in some grove nigli ; 

As thou from year to year hast sung too late 
For my relief, yet hadst no reason why : 

Whether the Muse or Love call thee his mate^ 
Both them I serve, and of their train am I. 

MiLTOX. 



21 



()Di:S AND SONNETS. 



SONNET ON HIS BLINDNESS. 

When I consider liow my liglit is spent 

Ere half my days in this dark worki and wide, 
And that one talent -which is death to hide, 

Lodged with me useless, though my soul more bent 

To serve therewith my Maker, and present 
]\Iy true account, lest He returning chide ; 
'' Doth God exact day-labour, light denied? " 

I fondly ask : Jjut Patience to prevent 

That murmur, soon replies, " God doth not need 

Either man's work or his own gifts ; who best 

Bear His mild yoke, they serve Him best : His state. 
Is kingly ; thousands at His bidding speed, 

And post o'er land and ocean without rest ; 

They also serve who only stand and wait." — Milton. 



;3 
f J 



^ 



•XI 



ODES AND SONNKTS. 



ODE TO EVENING. 

If aught of oaten stop, or pastoral song 

!May hope, chaste Eac, to soothe tliy modest ear, 

Like thy own solemn springs, 

Thy springs, aijd dying gales, 

O nymph reserved ! while noAv the bright-hair'd sun 
Sits in yon western tent, whose cloudy skirts, 

With brede ethereal wove, 

O'erhang his wavy bed : 

Now air is hush'd, save where the weak-eyed bat 
With short shrill shriek flits by on leathern wing, 

Or where the beetle winds 

His small but sullen horn, 

As oft he rises 'midst the twilight path, 
Against the pilgrim borne in heedless hum : 

Now teach me, maid composed. 

To breathe some soften' d strain, 

Whose numbers stealing through thy dark'ning vale. 
May not unseemly with its stillness suit, 

As, musing slow, I hail 

Thy genial loved return ! 



23 



ODES AND SONNETS. 

For when thy folding-star arising shows 
His paly circlet^ at his warning lamp 

The fragrant Hours, and Elves 

Who slept in buds the day. 

And many a Nymph who wreathes her brows with sedge, 
And sheds the freshening dew, and, lovelier still, 

The pensive Pleasures sweet 

Prepare thy shadoAvy car. 

Then let me rove some wild and heathy scene, 
Or find some ruin 'midst its dreary dells, 

Whose walls more awful nod 

By thy religious gleams. 

Or if chill blust'ring winds, or driving rain, 
Prevent my willing feet, be mine the hut, 

That, from the mountain's side, 

VicAvs Avilds and swelling Hoods, 

And hamlets brown, and dim-discovered spires, 
And hears their simple bell, and marks o'er all 

Thv dewv fingers draw 

The gradual dusky veil. 



24 



ODES AND SONNETS. 



While Spring shall pour his showers^ as oft he wont, 
And bathe thy breathing tresses, meekest Eve ! 

While Summer loves to sport 

Beneath thy lingering light : 

While sallow Autumn fills thy lap with leaves, 
Or Winter, yellow through the troublous air. 

Affrights thy shrinking train. 

And rudely rends thy robes : 

So long, regardful of thy quiet rule, 

Shall Fancy, Friendship, Science, smiling Peace, 

Thy gentlest influence own. 

And love thy favourite name ! 

Collins. 




ODKS AMI SO.Wins. 



'^ 






ODE ON SOUTH DE. 

Hai'py the man whose Avisli and care 

A few paternal acres bound, 
Content to breathe his native air, 
In liis oAvn gronnd. 

\yhose herds with milk, whose fields with bread, 

Whose floeks supply him with attire, 
AYhose trees in snmmer yield him shade, 
In winter fire. 

Blest, who can unconcern'dly find 

Hours, days, and years slide soft away, 
In health of body, peace of mind. 
Quiet bv dav, 

Sound sleep by night ; study and ease, 

Together mix'd ; sweet recreation ; 
And innocence, which most does please 
With meditation. 

Thus let me live, unseen, unknown, 

Thus unlamented let me die. 
Steal from the world, and not a stone 
Tell where I lie. 

Pope. 




SONNET. 

How davklv o'er von far-off mountain frowns 
The gathered tempest ! from that hirid cloud 
The deep-voiced thunders roll, awful and loud, 

Thoug:h distant ; while upon the misty downs 



27 



ODES AND SONNETS. 



Fast falls in shadowy streaks the peltmg rain. 

I never saw so terrible a storm ! 
Perhaps some way-worn traveller in vain 

Wraps his torn raiment round his shivering form, 
Cold even as hope within him ! I the while 
Pause me in sadness^ though the sunbeams smile 

Cheerily round me. Ah, that thus my lot 
Might be with peace and solitude assigned, 

Where I might, from some little quiet cot, 
Sie;h for the crimes and miseries of mankind ! 

SoUTHEY. 



SONNET. 

Stately yon vessel sails adown the tide 

To some far-distant land adventurous bound, 
The sailors' busy cries, from side to side. 

Pealing among the echoing rocks resound ; 
A patient, thoughtless, much-enduring band. 

Joyful they enter on their ocean way. 
With shouts exulting leave their native laud, 

And know no care beyond the present day. 
But is there no poor mourner left behind. 

Who sorrows for a child or husband there ? 



28 



X 




Wlio at the howling of the midnight wind 
Will wake and tremble in her boding prayer ? 

So may her voice be heard^ and heaven be kind — 
Go gallant ship, and be thy fortune fair ! 

South EY 



20 



ODES AND SONNETS. 



SONNET. 

Like as a ship, tliat through the oceah Avide, 
By conduct of some star^ doth make her Avay, 
"When as a storm hath dimmed her trusty guide, 
Out of her course doth wander far astra}' ; 
So I, Avhose star, that wont with her bright ray 
!>[c to direct, with clouds is overcast, 
Do Avauder uoav, in darkness and dismay, 
Through hidden perils round ahout mv plast : 
Yet hope I Avell that, Avlien this storm is past, 
My Helicc, tlic lodestar of my life, 
AYill shine again, and look on me at last, 
With lovely light to clear my cloudy grief. 
Till then I Avander careful, comfortless, 
In secret sorr()\v, and sad pensiveness. 

EdAII M) Spl.XCKU. 




ODE TO PEACE. 

OME, peace of mind, delightful guest ! 
Return, and make thy doAvny nest 

Once more in this sad heart : 
Nor riches I uor poAver pursue. 
Nor hold forbidden joys in vicAV ; 

We therefore need not part. 



so 



OUKS AND soNNirrs. 

^Vllel•e wilt thou dwell, if not witli luo, 
I'rom avarice and ambition free^ 

And pleasure's fatal wiles? 
For whom, alas ! dost thou prepare 
The sweets that T was wont to share, 

The banquet of thy smiles ? 

The great, the gay^ shall they partake 
The heaven that thou alone canst make ' 

And wilt thou cpiit the stream 
That murmurs through the dewy mead, 
The grove and the sequester'd shed, 

To be a guest with them ? 

For thee I panted, thee I prized^ 
For thee I gladly saerifieed 

Whate'er I loved before ; 
And shall I see thee start away, 
And helpless, hopeless, hear thee say — 

Farewell ! we meet no more ! 



COAVPER. 




31 



ODES AND SONNETS. 



tk 



^' 



:^c 



<^ 



THE SPRING. 

A SONNET. FROM THE SPANISH. 

Those whiter Lilies wliicli the early moru 

Seems to have neAvly woven of sleaved silk, 
To which, on hanks of wealthy Tagus horn, 

Gold was their cradle, liquid pearl their milk. 
These hlushing Roses, with whose vii-gin leaves 

The wanton wind to sport himself presumes, 
Whilst from their rifled wardrobe he receives 

For his wings purple, for his breath perfumes. 
Both those and these my Cselia's pretty foot 

Trod up — but if she should her face display, 
And fragrant breast — they 'd dry again to the root, 

As with the blasting of the mid-day^s ray ; 
And this soft wind, Avhich both perfumes and cools. 
Pass like the unregarded breath of fools. 

Fanshawe. 



32 



ODES AND SONNETS. 



^ 



SONNET. 

Sweet is the rose, but growes upon a brere ; 

Sweet is the jmiipeer, but sharpe his bough ; 

Sweet is the eglantine, but pricketh nere ; 

Sweet is the fir bloome, but his braunches rough ; 

Sweet is the cypresse, but his rynd is rough ; 

Sweet is the nut, but bitter is his pill ; 

Sweet is the broome-flowre, but yet sowre enough ; 

And sweet is moly, but his root is ill. 

So every sweet with soure is tempred still. 

That maketh it be coveted the more : 

For easie things, that may be got at will, 

Most sorts of men doe set but little store. 
Why then should I accompt of little paine, 
That eudlesse pleasure shall unto me gaine ! 

Spenser. 




33 



ODES AND SONNETS. 



SONNET. 



Amongst the many buds proclaiming May, 

(Decking the fields in holy-day's array^ 

Striving who shall surpass in bravery,) 

Mark the fair blooming of the hawthorn-tree ; 

Who, finely clothed in a robe of white, 

Feeds full the wanton eye with May's delight. 

Yet, for the bravery that she is in. 

Doth neither handle card nor wheel to spin, 

Nor changeth robes but twice, is never seen 

In other colours than in white or green. 

Learn then content, young shepherd, from this tree, 

Whose greatest wealth is Nature's livery ; 

And richest ingots never toil to find^ 

Nor care for poverty, but of the mind. 

Browne. 



SONNET. 

How sweet it is, when mother Fancy rocks 

The wayward brain, to saunter through a wood ! 

An old place, full of many a lovely brood, 

Tall trees, green arbours, and ground flowers in flocks ; 

And wild rose tip-toe upon hawthorn stocks, 

Like to a bonnie lass, who plays her pranks 

At wakes and fairs with wandering mountebanks, — 



34 




When she stands cresting the clown's head, and mocks 
The crowd beneath her. Verily I think, 



35 



ODES AND SONNETS. 



Such place to mc is sometimes like a dream 
Or map of the old world : thoughts_, link by link^ 
Enter through ears and eyesight, with such gleam 
Of all things, that at last in fear I shrink, 
And leap at once from the delicious stream. 

WoKDSWORTH. 



SONNET. 

Thine eyes' blue tenderness, thy long fair hair. 
And the wan lustre of thy featm'es — caught 
From contemplation — were serenely wrought. 

Seems Soitow's softness charmed from its despair — 

Have thrown such speaking sadness in thine air, 
That — but I know^ thy blessed bosom fraught 
With mines of unalloyed and stainless thought — 

I should have deem'd thee doom'd to earthly care. 

With such an aspect, by his colours blent. 

When from his beauty -breathing pencil born, 

(Except that thou hast nothing to repent) 
The Magdalen of Guido saw the morn — 

Such seem'st thou — but how much more excellent ! 

With nought Remorse can claim — nor Virtue sscorn. 

Byron. 



3G 



ODES AND SONNETS. 



SONNET. 

Thy cheek is pale with thought^ but not from woe, 
And yet so lovely^ that if ISIirth could flush 
Its rose of whiteness with the brightest blusli, 

My heart would wish away that ruder glow ; 

And dazzle not thy deep-blue eyes — but^ oh ! 
While gazing on them sterner eyes will gush, 
And into mine my mother's weakness rush, 

Soft as the last drops round heaven's airy bow. 

For, through thy long dark lashes low depending, 
The soul of melancholy Gentleness 

Gleams like a seraph from the sky descending, 
Above all pain, yet pitying all distress ; 

At once such majesty with sweetness blending, 
I worship more, but cannot love thee less. 

By RON. 




SONNET. 

The rolling wheel that runneth often round, 
The hardest steel in tract of time doth tear ; 
And drizzling drops^ that often do redound, 
The firmest flint doth in continuance wear : 
Yet cannot I, with many a dropping tear 
And long entreaty, soften her hard heart, 
That she Avill once vouchsafe my plaint to hear. 
Or look with pity on my painful smart, 
But^ when I plead, she bids me play my part ; 
And, when I weep, she says, Tears are but AAatev ; 
And, when I sigh, she says, I know the art ; 
And, when I wail, she turns herself to laughter. 
So do I weep, and wail, and plead in vain, 
AMiiles she as steel and flint doth still remain. 

Edmund Spenser. 



SONNET. 

THE WINTER TRAVELLER. 

God help thee. Traveller, on thy journey far ; 
The wind is bitter keen, — the snow o'erlays 
The hidden pits, and dangerous hollow ways, 
And darkness will involve thee. — No kind star 
To-niii'lit will guide thee, Trnveller, — and the Avar 



38 




Of winds and elements on thy head will break. 
And in thy agonisiiig ear the shriek. 

Of spirits howling on their stormy car, 

Will often ring appalling — I portend 
A dismal night — and on my Avakeful bed 
Thoughts, Traveller, of thee, will fill my head, 



39 



ODES AND SONNETS. 

And liim, who rides where wind and Avaves contend, 
And strives; rude cradled on the seas, to guide 
His lonely bark through the tempestuous tide. 

Henry Kirke White. 



ODE WRITTEN IN THE YEAK MDCCXLVI. 

How sleep the brave, who sink to rest, 
By all their country's wishes blest ! 
When Spring, with dewj fingers cold, 
Returns to deck their hallow'd mould, 
She there shall dress a sweeter sod 
Than Fancy's feet have ever trod. 

By Fairy hands their knell is rung, 
By forms unseen their dirge is sung : 
There Honour comes^ a pilgrim gray, 
To bless the turf that wraps their clay, 
And Freedom shall awhile repair, 
To dwell a weeping hermit there ! 

Collins. 







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s 


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1^ 




I 




40 



:k )k :ifL )tt 



DESCRIPTION OF SPUING. 

The soote season that bud and bloome forth bringes^ 
With grene hath cladde the hyll, and eke the vale ; 
The nightingall M'ith fethers new she singes ; 
The turtle to her mate hath tokl her tale. 
Somcr is comc^ for every spray now springes ; 
The hart hath hung hys old head on the pale ; 
The buck in brake his winter coate he fiynges ; 
The fishes flete with newe repayred scale ; 
The adder all her slough away she flynges ; 
The swift swallow pursueth the flyes smalle ; 
The busy bee her honey now she mynges ; 
Winter is worne that was the floures^ bale. 
And thus I see among these pleasant thynges 
Each care decay es^ and yet my sorrow sprynges. 

Earl of Suruey, 



• ^ ■ 
^ 1 ^ 



41 



ODKS AM) SONNKTS. 



SOXNET. 



Dear Chorister, who from those shadows sends 
Ere that the blushing morn dare show her light, 
Such sad lamenting strains, tliat night attends, 
(Become all ear) stars stay to hear thy plight, 
If one whose grief even reach of thought transcends, 
AYho ne'er (not in a dream) did taste delight, 
Mav thee importune who like case pretends, 
And seems to joy in woe, in woe's despite. 
Tell me (so may thou fortune milder try, 
And long, long sing) for what thou thus complains, 
Since winter's gone, and sun in dappled sky 
Enamour'd smiles on woods and flowery plains ? 
The bird, as if my questions did her move, 
^yith trembling wings sigh'd forth, I love, I love. 

Drummond. 



SONNET 

TO A BROOK NEAR THE VILLAGE OF CORSTON. 

As thus I bend me o'er thy babbling stream 

And watch thy current, memory's hand portrays 
The faint-formed scenes of the departed days, 
Like the far forest by the moon's pale beam 
Dimly descried, yet lovely. I have worn, 



42 




Upon thy banks^ the livelong hour away, 

When sportive childhood wantoned through the day, 



43 



ODES AND SONNETS. 



Joj^ed at the opening splendour of the morn. 

Or, as the twiliglit darkened, heaved the sigh. 
Thinking of distant home ; as down my clieek. 
At the fond thought, slow stealing on, would speak 

The silent eloquence of the full eye. 

Dim are the long past days, yet still they please 
As thy soft sounds half heard, borne on the inconstant breeze. 

SoUTHEYi 



SONNET. 

AVRITTEN AT WINSLADE IN HAMPSHIRE. 

WiNSLADE, thy beech-capt hills, with waving grain 

Mantled, thy chequer'd views of wood and lawn, 

Whilom could charm, or when the gradual dawn 

'Gan the gray mist Avith orient purple stain. 

Or Evening glimmer'd o'er the folded train : 

Her fairest landskips whence my Muse has dra\^l^ 

Too free Avith servile courtly phrase to fawn, 

Too weak to try the buskin's stately strain : 

Yet now no more thy slopes of beech and corn, 

Nor views invite, since he far distant strays. 

With whom I traced their sweets at eve and morn, 

Erom Albion far, to cull Hesperian bays ; 

In this alone they please, howe'er forlorn. 

That still they can recal those happier days. — Warton. 



44 




TO LEVEN-WATER. 

On Leven's banks, while free to rove, 
And tune the rural pipe to love ; 
I envied not the happiest SA\'ain 
That ever trod the Arcadian plain. 
Pure stream ! in whose transparent wave 
INTy youthful limbs I wont to lave ; 



4-5 



ODES AND SONNF.TS. 

No torrents stain thy limpid source ; 
No rocks impede thy dimpling course, 
That sAveetlv Avarbles o'er its bed, 
With white, round, polish' d pebbles spread ; 
While, lightly poised, the scaly brood 
Tn myriads cleave thv crystal flood ; 
The springing trout, in speckled pride ; 
The salmon, monarch of the tide ; 
The ruthless pike, intent on war ; 
The silver eel, and mottled par. 
Devolving from thy parent lake, 
A charming maze thy waters make, 
By bowers of birch, and groves of pine, 
And hedges flower'd with eglantine. 
Still on thy banks, so gaily green, 
May numerous herds and flocks be seen, 
And lasses chanting o^er the pail, 
And shepherds piping in the dale. 
And ancient faith that knows no guile. 
And industry imbrown'd with toil. 
And hearts resolved, and hands prepared, 
The blessings they enjoy to guard. 

Smollett 



4G 



OOKS AMI !>(JNNI:TS. 



SONNET. 

Because 1 breathe not love to every one, 
Nor do I use set colours for to Avear, 
Nor nourish special locks of vowed hair 
Nor give each speech a full point of a groan ; 
The courtly nymphs, acquainted with the moan 
Of them who in their lips Love's standard bear, 
What, he ? say they of me, now I dare swear 
He cannot love ! no, no ; let him alone. 
And think so still, so Stella know my mind ! 
Profess indeed I do not Cupid's art ; 
But you, fair maids, at length this true shall find, 
That his right badge is but worn in the heart. 
Dumb swans, not chattering pies, do lovers prove ; 
They love indeed, who quake to say they love. 

Sir Philip Sidney. 



N* 

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^ 






^ 








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'C 




T 




T 



4»w 



ODES AXD SOXNKTS. 



ODE. 

No^y the bright morning star^ day^s harbinger, 
Comes dancing from the east, and leads with her 
The flowery May, who, from her green lap, throws 
The yellow cowslip, and the pale primrose. 
Hail, bounteous jNIay, that dost inspire 
INIirth, and youth, and warm desii-e ! 
Woods and groves are of thy dressing, 
Hill and dale doth boast thy blessing. 
Thus we salute thee with our early song. 
And welcome thee, and wish thee long. 

Milton. 



TO MEADOWS. 




E have been fresh and green, 
Ye have been filPd with flowers ; 
And ye the walks have been. 
Where maids have spent their hours. 

Ye have beheld where they 
With wicker arks did come, 
To kiss and bear away 
The richer cowslips home. 



48 




You 'vp heard them sweetl}^ sing, 
And seen them in a round. 



■i'j 



II 



ODES AND SONNETS. 



Each A'irgiii like a Spring 
"With honeysuckles crown'd. 

But now we see none here. 
Whose silvery feet did tread. 
And, with dishevell'd hair, 
AdornM this smoother mead. 

Like unthrifts, having spent 
Youi" stock, and needy gi'own, 
Ye 're left here to lament 
Your poor estates alone. 



o 



» 



Hetikick. 



no 



ODES AND SONNETS. 



^*-^ 



SONNET. 

The merry cuckow_, messenger of spring. 
His trompet slirill liatli tlirise already sounded. 
That warnes al lovers wayte upon tlieir king, 
Who now is coming forth with girland crouned. 
With noyse whereof the quyre of byrds resounded. 
Their anthemes sweet, devized of loves prayse, 
That all the woods theyr ecchoes hack rebounded. 
As if they knew the meaning of their layes. 
But mongst them all, which did Loves honor rayse. 
No word was heard of her that most it ought ; 
But she his precept proudly disobayes. 
And doth his ydle message set at nought. 

Therefore, O Love, unlesse she turne to thee 

Ere cuckow end, let her a rebell be ! 

Spenser. 

« A » 



-^>.<$^- ■ 



ODES AND SONNETS. 



« 



SONNET. 

Fair is the rising morn, when o'er the sky 

The orient sun expands his roseate ray, 
And lovely to the bard's enthusiast eye 

Fades the meek radiance of departing day ; 
But fairer is the smile of one yve love, 

Than all the scenes in nature's ample sway, 
And sweeter than the music of the grove, 

The voice that bids us welcome. Such delight, 

Edith ! is mine ; escaping to thy sight 
From the hard durance of the empty throng. 

Too swiftly then towards the silent night. 
Ye hours of happiness ! ye speed along ; 

Whilst I, from all the world's cold cares apart, 

Pour out the feelings of my burthened heart. — South ev 



i 



SONNET. 

Give me a cottage on some Cambrian wild, 
Where, far from cities, I may spend my days 

And, by the beauties of the scene beguiled. 
May pity man's pursuits, and shun his ways. 

AVhlle on the rock I mark the browsing goat. 
List to the mountain torrent's distant noise. 

Or the hoarse bittern's solitary note, 



i 




I shall not want tlie world's delusive joys ; 
But^ Avitli my little scrip,, my book^ my lyre^ 

Shall think my lot complete^ nor covet more ; 
And when^ with time^ shall wane the vital fire, 

I'll raise my pillow on the desert shore. 
And lay me down to rest where the wild wave 
Shall make sweet music o'er my lonely grave. 

Hex\ry Kirke White. 



53 



ODES ANO SONNETS. 



<^<^<8> 



ODE. 

Now the golden ^Morii aloft 

AVaves lier dew-bespangled wing;. 
With A'ermeil cheek and whisper soft 

She woos the tardy Spring : 
Till April starts, and calls aronnd 
The sleeping fragrance from the ground; 
And lightly o^er the living scene 
Scatters his freshest, tenderest green. 

New-born flocks, in rustic dance. 

Frisking ply their feeble feet ; 
Forgetful of their wintry trance 

The birds his presence greet : 
13ut chief, the sky-lark warbles high 
His trembling thrilling ecstacy ; 
And, lessening from the dazzled sight, 
]Melts into air and liquid light. 

Gray, 



54 



ODES AXD SONNETS. 




SONNET 

TO THE RIVER TRENT. — WRITTEN ON RECOVERY FROM SICKNESS. 

Once more, O Trent ! along thy pebbly marge 

A pensive invalid, reduced and pale, 
From the close sick-room newly let at large, 
Woos to his wan- worn cheek the pleasant gale. 
Oh ! to his ear how musical the tale 

Which fills with joy the throstle's little throat! 
And all the sounds which on the fresh breeze sail, 

How wildly novel on his senses float ! 
It was on this, that many a sleepless night, 

As, lone, he watch'd the taper's sickly gleam, 
And at his casement heard, with wild affright, 
The owl's dull wing, and melancholy scream. 
On this he thought, this, this his sole desire. 
Thus once again to hear the warbling woodland choir. 

Henry Kirke White. 



oy 



SONNET 

DURING A TEMPEST. 

O God ! have mercy in this dreadful hour 
On the poor mariner ! — In comfort here, 
Safe sheltered as I am, I almost fear 

The blast that rages with resistless power. 
What were it now to toss upon the waves, — 

The maddened waves, — and know no succour near ; 

The howling of the storm alone to hear, 
And the wild sea that to the tempest raves, 

To gaze amid the horrors of the night, 

And only see the billoAvs' gleaming light ; 
And in the dread of death to think of her 

Who as she listens sleepless to the gale, 

Puts up a silent praj'er and waxes pale ! 
O God ! have mercy on the mariner. 

SOUTHEY. 



SONNET. 

Like as the culver, on the bared bough. 
Sits mourning for the absence of her mate. 
And in her songs sends many a wishful vow 
For liis returne that seemes to linger late ; 
So T alone, now left disconsolate, 



4 



5r, 




jNIourne to myself the absence of my Love^, 
And, wandering here and there, all desolate, 



■3 1 



ODES AND SONNETS. 



Seek with my playnts to match that mournful dove ; 

Ne joy of aught that under heaven doth hove. 

Can comfort me, but her owne joyous sight. 

Whose sweet aspect both God and man can move. 

In her unspotted pleasauns to delight. 

Dark is my day, whyles her fayre light I miss. 

And dead my life, that wants such lively bliss. — Spenser. 



SONNET 

ON THE DEPARTURE OP THE NIGHTINGALE. 

Sweet poet of the woods, a long adieu ! 
Farewell, soft minstrel of the early year ! 
Ah ! 'twill be long ere thou shalt sing anew, 
And pour thy music on the night's dull ear. 
Whether on Spring thy wandering flights await. 
Or whether silent in our groves you dwell, 
The pensive Muse shall own thee for her mate. 
And still protect the song she loves so well. 
With cautious step the love-lorn youth shall glide 
Thro' the lone brake that shades thy mossy nest ; 
And shepherd-girls from eyes profane shall hide 
The gentle bird, who sings of pity best : 
For still thy voice shall soft affections move. 
And still be dear to sorrow, and to love. 

Charlotte Smith'; 



.58 



SONNET. 

From you have I been absent in the spring, 

When proud-pied April, dress'd in all his trim, 
Hath put a spirit of youth in every thing ; 

That heavy Saturn laughM and leap'd Avith him. 
Yet nor the lays of birds, nor the sweet smell 

Of different flowers in odour and in hue, 
Could make me any summer's story tell, 

Or from their proud lap pluck them where they grew 
Nor did I wonder at the lilies white. 

Nor praise the deep vermilion in the rose ; 
They were but sweet, but figures of delight, 

Drawn after you ; you pattern of all those. 
Yet seem'd it winter still, and, you away, 

As with your shadow I with these did play. 

Shakspeare. 




59 



ODES AND SONNETS. 



SONNET 

TO THE EVENING UAINBOW. 

^NIiLD arch of promise ! on the evening sky 

Thou shinest fair^ with many a lovely ray, 
Each in the other melting. Much mine eye 

Delights to linger on thee ; for the day, 
Changeful and many-weathered, seemed to smile, 
Elashing brief splendour through its clouds awhile 

AVhich deepened dark anon, and fell in rain : 
But pleasant it is now to pause, and view 
Thv various tints of frail and Avaterv hue, 

And think the storm shall not return again. 
Such is the smile that piety bestows 

On the good man's pale cheek, when he, in peace. 
Departing gently from a Avcrld of woes. 

Anticipates the realm where sorrows cease. 

South i:v 



MORNING. 

THE AUTHOR CONFINED TO COLLEGE. 

Once more the vernal sun's ambrosial beams 
The fields as with a purple robe adorn : 

Cherwcll, thy sedgy banks and glist'ring streams 
All laugh and sing at mild approach of morn ; 



m 




Thro' the deep groves I hear the chanting birds, 
And thro^ the clover'd vale the various-lowing herds. 



Up mounts the mower from his lowly thateh^ 

AYell pleased the progress of the spring to mark, 
The fragrant breath of breezes pure to catch, 



(;i 



ODES AND SONNETS. 



And startle from her couch the early lark ; 
More genuine pleasure soothes his tranquil breast, 
Than high-throned kings can boast, in eastern glory drest. 

The pensive poet thro' the green-wood steals, 

Or treads the willow'd marge of murmuring brook ; 

Or climbs the steep ascent of airy hills ; 

There sits him down beneath a branching oak, 

Whence various scenes, and prospects wide below. 

Still teach his musing mind with fancies high to glow. 

But I nor with the day awake to bliss, 

(Inelegant to me fair Nature's face, 
A blank the beauty of the morning is, 

And grief and darkness all for light and grace ;) 
Nor bright the sun, nor green the meads appear. 
Nor colour charms mine eye, nor melody mine ear. 

Me, void of elegance and manners mild, 
With leaden rod, stern Discipline restrains ; 

Stiff Pedantry, of learned Pride the child. 
My roving genius binds in Gothic chains ; 

Nor can the cloister'd Muse expand her wing. 

Nor bid these twilight roofs with her gay carols ring. 

Warton. 



62 



ODES AND SONNETS. 





ODE TO VERTUE. 

WEET day, so cool, so calm, so bright, 
The bridall of the earth and skie ; 
The dew shall weep thy fall to-night ; 
For thou must die. 

Sweet rose, whose hue, angrie and brave, 
Bids the rash gazer wipe his eye. 
Thy root is ever in its grave. 
And thou must die. 

Sweet Spring, full of sweet dayes and roses, 
A box where sweets compacted lie. 
My musick shoAvs ye have your closes. 
And all must die. 

Onely a sweet and vertuous soul, 
Like season'd timber, never gives ; 
But though the whole world turn to coal, 
Then chiefly lives. 

George Herbert. 




63 



ODES AND SOWETS. 



SONNET. 

Thrice happy he, who l)y some shady grove, 

Far from the clamorous worhl, doth live his own ; 

Though solitary, who is not alone. 

But doth converse with that Eternal Love. 

O how more sweet is birds' harmonious moan. 

Or the hoarse sobbings of the widow' d dove. 

Than those smooth Avhisperings neer a prince's throne. 

Which good make doubtful, do the evil approve ! 

O how more sweet is Zephyr's Avholesome breath. 

And sighs embalm'd, which new-born flowers unfold, 

Than that applause vain honour doth bequeath ! 

How sAveet are streams to poison drunk in gold ! 

The world is full of horrors, troubles, slights ; 

Woods' harmless shades have only true delights. 

Drummond. 



THE RETURN. 

As, when to one who long hath watch'd, the morn, 
Advancing slow, forewarns the approach of day 
(What time the young and flovvery-kirtled ]\Iay 
Decks the green hedge and dewy grass unshorn 
With cowslips pale, and many a whitening thorn), 



61 




And now the sun comes forth with level ray. 
Gilding the higli wood top and mountain gi-ay ; 



65 



ODES AND SONNETS, 



3* 



And^ as lie climbs_, the meadows 'gins adorn ; 

The rivers glisten to the dancing beam, 
Th' awaken' d birds begin their amorous strain_, 

And hill and vale with joy and fragrance teem. 
Such is the sight of thee ; thy wish'd return 
To eyes, like mine, that long have waked to mourn, 
That long have watch'd for light, and wept in vain. 

Bampfylde. 




m . . ^ 



ON THE SABBATH MORNING. 

With silent awe I hail the sacred morn. 
That slowlv wakes while all the fields are still ! 
A soothing calm on every breeze is borne ; 
A graver murmur gurgles from the rill ; 
And Echo answers softer from the hill ; 
And softer sings the linnet from the thorn ; 
The sky -lark warbles in a tone less shrill. 
Hail, light serene ! hail, sacred Sabbath-morn ! 
The rooks float silent by in airy drove ; 
The sun a placid yellow lustre throws ; 



GG 



ODES AND sonnets; 



The galeSj that lately sigh^l along the grove^ 
Havehush'd their downy wings in dead repose; 
The hovering rack of clouds forgets to move ; 
So smiled the day when the first morn arose ! 

John Leyden. 



A 

-^ > 
^ 



ODE TO THE EVENING STAR. 

How sweet thy modest light to view, 

Eair star ! to love and lovers dear ; 
While trembling on the falling dew, 

Like beauty shining through the tear ; 
Or hanging o'er that mirror-stream 

To mark each image trembling there, 
Thou seem'st to smile with softer gleam 

To see thv lovely face so fair. 



67 



Tliougli blazing o'er tlie arch of niglit, 

The moon thy timid beams outshine, 
As far as thine each starry night — 

Her ravs can never vie with thine. 
Thine are the soft enchanting hours, 

"When twilight lingers on the plain. 
And whispers to the closing flow'rs 

That soon the sun will rise again. 

Thine is the breeze that murmuring, bland 

As music, Avafts the lover's sigh, 
And bids the yielding heart expand 

In love's delicious ecstasv. 
Fair star ! though I be doom'd to prove 

That rapture's tears are niix'd with pain ; 
Ah ! still 1 feel 'tis sweet to lo\'e— 

But sweeter to be loved again. 

Levdkx, 



SONNET TO A REDBREAST. 

Sweet bird, that sing'st awav the earlv hours 
Of winters past or coming, void of care. 
Well-pleased with delights which present are. 



68 




Fair seasons, budding spraj^s, sweet-smelling floAvers ! 

To rocks, to springs, to rills, from leafy bowers 

Thou thy Creator's goodness dost declare, 

And what dear gifts on thee he did not spare ; 

A stain to human sense in sin that lowers. 

AVIiat soul can be so sick, which by thy songs, 

Attired in sweetness, sweetly is not driven 

Quite to forget earth's turmoils, spites and wrongs. 

And lift a reverend eye and thought to heaven V 



m 



ODES AND SONNETS. 



Sweet artless songster^ tliou my mind dost raise. 
To airs of splieres^ yes, and to angels' lays. 

William Drummond. 



SONNET. 

With how sad steps, O moon, thou climb'st the skies ! 

How silently, and with how wan a face ! 

What ! may it be, that e'en in heav'nly place 
That busy archer his sharp arrows tries ? 
Sure, if that long-with-loA e-acquainted eyes 

Can judge of love, thou feel'st a lover's case ; 

I read it in thy looks ; thy languish'd grace 
To me, that feel the like, thy state descries. 

Then, ev'n of fellowship, O moon, tell me, 
Is constant love deem'd there but want of wit ? 

Are beauties there as proud as here they be ? 
Do they above love to be loved, and yet 

Those lovers scorn, whom that love doth possess ? 

Do they call virtue there ungratefulness ? 

Sir Philip Sidney. 



ODES AND SONNETS. 






SONNET. 

As I have seen the lady of the INI ay 

Set in the arbour (on a holy-day) 

Built by the INIay-pole, where the jocund swains 

Dance with the maidens to the bagpipe's strains_, 

When emdous night commands them to be gone, 

Call for the men'y youngsters one by one, 

And for their well performance soon disposes, 

To this a garland interwove with roses ; 

To that a carved hook, or well-wrought scrip, 

Gracing another with her cherry lip ; 

To one her garter, to another then 

A handkerchief cast o'er and o'er again ; 

And none returneth empty that have spent 

His pains to fill their rural merriment. 

Browne. 






VI 




SOKNET 

WRITTEN AT THE CLOSE 01^ SPIUNO. 

The garlands fade that Spring so lately uovc^ 

Eacli simple flower, which she had nursed in dew, 
Anemones, that spangled every grove, 

The primrose wan, and harebell mildly blue. 
Ko more shall violets linger in the dell, 

Or purple orchis variegate the plain, 
Till Spring again shall call forth every bell, 

And dress with humid hands her wreaths again. 
Ah, poor humanity ! so frail, so fair, 

Are the fond visions of thy early day, 
Till tyrant passion, and corrosive care. 

Bid all thy fairy colours fade away ! 
Another May new buds and flowers shall bring ; 

Ah ! why has happiness no second spring ? 

Charlotte Smith. 



EVENING ODE. 

to STELLA. 

Evening now from purple wings 
Sheds the grateful gifts she brings ; 
Brilliant drops bedeck the mead, 
Cooling breezes shake the reed ; 



72 



3 




Shake the reed, and curl the stream 
Silver'd o'er with Cynthia's heam ; 



V3 



ODES A\D SONNETS. 




Near the chequer' d^ lonely grove, 
Hears, and keeps thy secrets, love ! 
Stella, thither let us stray. 
Lightly o'er the dewy way. 
Phoebus drives his burning car 
Hence, my lovely Stella, far; 
In his stead, the queen of night 
Round us pours a lambent light : 
Light that seems but just to show 
Breasts that beat, and cheeks that glow ; 
Let us now, in whisper'd joy. 
Evening's silent hours employ. 
Silence best, and conscious shades. 
Please the hearts that love invades, 
Other pleasures give them pain. 
Lovers all but love disdain. 

Johnson. 



I 




MAY-DAY ODE. 

UEEN of fresh flowers, 
Whom vernal stars obey. 

Bring thy warm showers. 
Bring thy genial ray. 

In nature's greenest livery drest. 



71. 



ODES AND SONNETS. 



Descend on carth^s expectant breast, 
To earth and Heaven welcome guest, 
Thou merry month of May ! 

Mark ! how we meet thee 

At dawn of dewy day ! 
Hark ! how we greet thee 

With our roundelay ! 
While all the goodly things that be 
In earth, and air, and ample sea, 
Are waking up to Avelcome thee, 

Thou merry month of May ! 

Flocks on the mountains. 

And birds upon their spray, 
Tree, turf, and fountains 

All hold holiday ; 
And Love, the life of living things, 
Love waves his torch, and clasps his wings. 
And loud and wide tliy praises sings. 

Thou merry month of May ! 



Heber. 



w^ 



75 



ODES AND SONNETS. 



ODE ON THE SPRING. 

L(j ! where the rosy-bosom' cl Hours^ 

Fair Menus' traiii_, ai)pear_, 
Disclose the long-expected floAvers, 

And wake the purple year ! 
The Attic Avarbler pours her throaty 

Responsive to the cuckoo's note. 
The untaught harmony of spring ; 

While, whisp'ring pleasure as they fly^ 

Cool Zephyrs thro' the clear blue sky 
Their gather' d fragrance fling. 

AVhere'er the oak's thick branches stretch 

A broader, broAvner shade ; 
AVhere'er the rude and moss-grown beech 

O'er-canopies the glade, 
Beside some Avater's rushy brink 
With me the INIuse shall sit, and think 
(At ease reclined in rustic state) 

HoAA' A'ain the ardour of the CroAvd, 

HoAA^ loAV, hoAv little are the Proud, 
How indigent the Great? 

Still is the toiling hand of Care : 
The panting herds repose : 



I 




Yet hark, how through the peopled air 

The busy murmur glows ! 
The insect youth are on the wing, 



77 



ODES AND SONNETS. 



Eager to taste the honied spring, 
And float amid the liqnid noon : 

Some lightly o'er the current skim^ 

Some show their gaily-gilded trim 
Quick-glaneing to the sun. 

To Contemplation's sober eye 

Such is the race of Man ; 
And they that creep, and they that fly, 

Shall end where they began. 
Alike the Busy and the Gay 
But flutter thro^ life's little day, |^ 

In Fortune's varying colours drest : 

Brush'd by the hand of rough Mischance, 

Or chill'd by Age, their airy dance 
They leave, in dust to rest. 

Methinks I hear, in accents low. 

The sportive, kind reply : 
Poor moralist ! and what art thou ? 

A solitary fly ! 
Thy joys no glittering female meets. 
No hive hast thou of hoarded sweets, 
No painted plumage to display : 

On hasty wings thy youth is flown ; 

Thy sun is set, thy spring is gone — 
We frolic while 'tis Mav. Gray. 



78 



ODES AND SONNETS. 




SONNET. 

It is a beaiiteons evening, calm and free ; 

The lioly time is quiet as a nun 

Breathless with adoration ; the broad sun 

Is sinking down in its tranquillity ; 

The gentleness of heaven is on the sea : 

Listen ! the mighty being is awake, 

And doth with his eternal motion make 

A sound like thunder — everlastingly. 

Dear child ! dear girl ! that walkest with me liere, 

If thou appear'st untouched by solemn thought, 

Tliy nature is not therefore less divine : 

Tlion liest " in Abraham^s bosom " all the year ; 

And worshipp^st at the temple's inner shrine, 

God being with thee when we know it not. 

WORDSWOHTII. 




V9 



ODES AND SONNETS. 



THE HAMLET. 

WRITTEN IN WHICHWOOD FOREST. 

The hinds Iioav blest, wlio ne'er beguiled 
To quit their hamlet's hawthorn wild ; 
Nor haunt the crowd, nor tempt the main, 
For splendid care, and guilty gain ! 

When morning's twilight-tinctured beam 
Strikes their low thatch with slanting gleam, 
They rove abroad in ether blue. 
To dip the scythe in fragrant dew ; 
The sheaf to bind, the beech to fell, 
That nodding shades a craggy dell. 

^ Midst gloomy glades, in warbles clear. 
Wild nature's sweetest notes thev hear ; 
On green untrodden banks they view 
The hyacinth's neglected hue; 
111 their lone haunts, and woodland rounds. 
They spy the squirrel's airy bounds : 
And startle from her ashen spray. 
Across the glen, the screaming jay : 
Each native charm their steps explore 
Of Solitude's sequester'd store. 



80 




For them the moon with cloudless ray 
Mounts, to ilhuiie their homeward way : 



81 



M 



ODES AND SONNETS. 



Their weary spirits to relieve^ 

The meadows incense breathe at eve. 

No riot mars the simple fare, 

That o'er a ghmmering hearth they share : 

But when the curfew's measured roar 

Duly, the darkening valleys o'er, 

Has echoed from the distant town, 

They wish no beds of cygnet-down. 

No trophied canopies, to close 

Their drooping eyes in quick repose. 

Their little sons, who spread the bloom 
Of health around the clay-built room. 
Or through the primrosed coppice stray. 
Or gambol in the new-mown hay ; 
Or quaintly braid the cowslip-twine. 
Or drive afield the tardy kine ; 
Or hasten from the sultry hill. 
To loiter at the shady rill ; 
Or climb the tall pine's gloomy crest. 
To rob the raven's ancient nest. 

Their humble porch with honied flow'rs 
The curling woodbine's shade embow'rs : 
From the small garden's thymy mound 
Their bees in busy swarms resound : 



82 




Nor fell Disease^ before his time, 
Hastes to consume life's golden prime : 
But when their temples long have wore 
The silver crown of tresses hoar ; 
As studious still calm peace to keep, 
Beneath a flowery turf they sleep. — Warton. 



83 



ODES AND SONNETS. 



ODE. 

On yonder rerdaut hillock laid^ 
Where oaks and elms^ a friendly shade^ 

O'erlook the falling stream. 
Oh; master of the Latin lyre. 
Awhile with thee will I retire 

From summer's noontide beam. 

And, lo; within my lonely bower. 

The industrious bee from many a flower 

Collects her balmy dews : 
'' For me,'' she sings, " the gems are born^ 
For me their silken robe adorn, 

Their fragrant breath diffuse." 

Sweet murmurer ! may no rude storm 

This hospitable scene deform, 

Nor check thy gladsome toils ; 

Still may the buds imsullied spring, 

Still showers and sunshine coui't thy wing- 
To these ambrosial spoils. 

Akenside. 



8i 



ODES AND SONNETS. 



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SONNET 

TO THE TrtRUSII, IN JANUARY. 

Sing on, sweet Thrusli, upon the leafless Lough ; 

Sing on, sweet hird, I listen to thy strain ; 

See aged Winter, 'mid his snrly reign, 
At thy blithe carol elears his furroAv'd brow. 
So in lone Poverty's dominion drear 

Sits meek Content with light unanxious heart, 

Welcomes the rapid movements, bids them part. 
Nor asks if they bring aught to liope or fear. 
I thank thee, Author of this opening day ! 

Thou whose bright sun now gilds the orient skies ! 

Riches denied, thy boon was purer joys, 
What wealth could never give nor take away ! 
Yet come, thou child of poverty and care ; 
The mite high Heav'n bestowed, that mite with thcc 

I'll share. 

l^ruxs. 



85 



ODKS AND SONNETS. 





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J?^'" " 






SONNET. 



The Shepherd^ looking eastward^ softly said^ 

" Briglit is thy veil, O Moon, as thou art bright ! '' 

Forthwith, that little cloud, in ether spread, 

And penetrated all with tender light, 

She cast away, and showed her fulgent head 

Uncovered ; — dazzling the beholder's sight 

As if to vindicate her beauty's right. 

Her beauty thoughtlessly disparaged. 

Meanwhile that veil, removed or thrown aside. 

Went, floating from her, darkening as it went ; 

And a huge mass, to bury or to hide, 

Approached this glory of the firmament ; 

Who meekly yields, and is obscured ; — content 

With one calm triumph of a modest pride. 

Wordsworth. 



86 



ODES ANU SONNETS. 



• o o • 
o , o 

o T o 



SONNET. 

A MOON -LIGHT NIGHT. 

LoAV on the utmost boundary of the sights 
Tlie rising vapours catch the silver light : 
Thence Fancy measures^ as they parting fly, 
Which first will throw its shadow on the eye. 
Passing the source of light ; and thence away, 
Succeeded quick by brighter still than they. 
For yet above these wafted clouds are seen 
(In a remoter sky, still more serene,) 
Others detached in ranges through the air. 
Spotless as snow, and countless as they're fair, 
Scattered immediatelv Avide from east to Avest, 
The beauteous semblance of a flock at rest. 
These, to the raptured mind, aloud proclaim 
Their Mighty Shepherd's everlasting name. 

Bloomfield. 



87 



ODES AND SONNETS. 



SONNET TO SLEEP. 



A FLGCK of sheep that leisurely pass by, 
One after one ; tlie sound of rain_, and bees 
Murmuring ; the fall of rivers, winds and seas, 
Smooth fields, white sheets of water, and pure sky ; 
I '\e thought of all by turns ; and still I lie 
Sleepless ; and soon the small birds' melodies 
Must hear, first uttered from my orchard trees ; 
And the first cuckoo's melancholy cry. 
Even thus last night, and two nights more, I lay, 
And could not win thee. Sleep ! by any steal tli : 
So do not let me Avear to-night away : 
"Without thee what is all the morning's wealth ? 
Come, blessed barrier betwixt day and day, 
Dear mother of fresh thoughts and joyous health ! 

Wordsworth. 



SONNET. 

Full many a glorious morning have I seen 
Flatter the mountain tops with sovereign eye. 

Kissing with golden face the meadows green, 
Gilding pale streams with heavenly alchymy ; 



88 




Anon permit the basest clouds to ride 
With ugly rack on his celestial face, 



s:i 



ODES AND SONNETS. 



And from the forlorn world his visage hide. 
Stealing unseen to west with this disgrace : 

Even so my snn one early morn did shine, 
With all triumphant splendour on my brow ; 

But out, alack ! he was but one hour mine, 

The region cloud hath mask'd him from me now. 

Yet him for this my love no wit disdaineth ; 

Suns of the world may stain, when heaven's sun staineth. 

Shakspeare. 




90 



ODES AN'D SONNETS. 



i 






SONNET. 

The weary yeare his race now having run, 
The new begins his compast course anew : 
With shew of morning mylcle he hath begun^ 
Betokening peace and plenty to ensew. 
So let us, which this chaunge of weather vew, 
Chaunge eke our mynds, and former lives amend ; 
The old yeares sinnes forepast let us eschew, 
And fly the faults with which we did offend. 
Then shall the new yeares joy forth freshly send. 
Into the glooming world, his gladsome ray : 
And all these stormes, which now his beauty blend. 
Shall turne to calmes, and tymely cleare away. 

So, likewise, Love ! cheare you your heavy spright. 
And chaunge old yeares annoy to new delight. 

Spenser. 




tm 



111 



ODES AND SONNETS. 



ODE. 

P.vcK clouds awav, and welcome day, 

With night we banish sorrow ; 
Sweet air blew soft^ mount larks aloft, 

To give my love good-morrow ! 
Wings from the wind to please her mind. 

Notes from the lark I ^11 borrow ; 
Bird prune thy wing, nightingale sing^, 

To give my love good-morrow ! 
To give my love good-morrow, 
Notes from them both I '11 borrow. 

Wake from thy nest, robin red-breast. 

Sing birds in every furrow ; 
And from each hill let music shrill 

Give my fair love good-morrow ! 
Blackbird, and thrush, in every bush. 

Stare, linnet, and cock-sparrow ! 
You pretty elves, amongst yourselves, 

Sing my fail love good-morrow ! 

To give my love good-morrow, 

Sing birds in every furrow ! 



Heywood. 



92 



ODES AM) SONNETS. 






TO A IMOUNTAIN DAISY. 

Wee, modest, crimson-tipped llow^r, 
Thou'st met me in an evil hour : 
For I maun crush amang the stourc 

Thy slender stem ; 
To spare thee now is past my pow'r, 

Thou bonnie gem ! 

Alas ! it 's no thy neebor sweet, 
The bonnie Lark, companion meet ! 
Bending thee ' mang the dewy weet, 

Wi^ spreekled breast, 
When upward -springing, blythe, to greet 

The purpling East. 

Cauld blew the bitter-biting North 
Upon thy early, humble birth ; 
Yet cheerfully thou glinted forth 

Amid the storm, 
Scarce rear'd above the parent earth 

Thy tender form. 



93 



The flaunting flow'rs our gardens yields 
High sheltering woods and wa's maun shiekl ; 
But thou, beneath the random biekl 

O^ clod or stane^ 
Adorns the histie stibble-field, 

Unseen, alane. 

There, in thy scanty mantle clad, 
Thy snawie bosom sunward spread. 
Thou lifts thy unassuming head 

In humble guise : 
But now the share uptears thy bed. 

And low thou lies ! 

Such is the fate of artless Maid, 
Sweet flow 'ret of the rural shade, 
By lovers simplicity betrayed. 

And guileless trust, 
Till she, like thee, all soil'd, is laid 

Low i' tli'e dust. 

Such is the fate of simple Bard, 

On life's rough ocean luckless starrM ! 

Unskilful he to note the card 

Of prudent Lore, 
Till billows rage, and gales blow hard, 

And whelm him o'er ! 



94 



ODES AND SONNETS. 



Sucli fate to suifering worth is given, 
Who long with wants and woes has striven, 
By human pride or cunning driven, 

To misery's brink, 
Till, wrenched of every stay but Heaven, 

He, ruin'd, sink ! 



Burns. 




^ ^. ^ ^. / 



ODE TO SPRING. 

Earth now is green, and heaven is blue ; 
Lively Spring, which makes all new. 

Jolly Spring doth enter ; 
Sweet young sunbeams do subdue 

Angry, aged Winter. 
Winds are mild, and seas are calm, 
Every meadow flows with balm, 

The earth wears all her riches ; 
Harmonious birds sing such a psalm 

As ear and heart bewitches. 

Sir J. Da VIES. 



95 



RETIREMENT. 

AN ODK. 

On beds of daisies idly laid, 
The willow waving o^er my liead^ 
Now morning, on the bending stem, 
Hangs the round and glittering gem, 
LulPd by the lapse of yonder spring, 
Of nature's various charms I sing : 
Ambition, pride, and pomp, adieu, 
For what has joy to do with you? 

Joy, rose-lipt dryad, loves to dwell 
In sunny held, or mossy cell ; 
Delights on echoing hills to hear 
The reaper's song, or lowing steer ; 
Or view, with tenfold plenty spread, 
The crowded corn-field, blooming mead ; 
AVhile beauty _( health, and innocence^ 
Transport the eye, the soul, the sense. 

Wauton, sk.v. 



SONNET. 
That time of year thou maycst in me behold 
When yellow leaves, or none, or few, do hang 
Upon those boughs which shak(.' against the cold, 
Bare ruin'd choirs, where late tlic sweet birds sang. 



or> 




In rae thou see'st the twilight of such clay 
As after sunset fadeth in the west, 
Which by and by black night doth take away, 
Death's second self, that seals up all in rest. 
In me thou see'st the glowing of such fire, 
That on the ashes of his youth doth lie, 



ODES AND SONNETS. 



As the death-bed whereon it must expire^ 

Consum'd with that which it was nourish^l by. 

This tlioii percciv'st, Avhich makes thy love more strong, 

To love that well which thou must leave ere long. 



Shakspeare. 



ODE. 

« 

THE ClIAUACTKR OV A HAPPY LIFE. 

How happy is he borii or taught, 
That serveth not another's will ; 

Whose armour is his honest thought, 
And simple truth his highest skill : 

Whose passions not his masters are ; 

Whose soul is still prepar'd for death ; 
Not ty'd unto the world Avith care 

Of prince's ear, or vulgar breath : 

Who hath his life from rumours freed ; 

Whose conscience is his strong retreat 
Whose state can neither flatterers feed. 

Nor mine make oppressors great : 



98 



Who cuvics iiouCj uhom chance doth raise. 
Or vice : Who never understood 

How deepest wounds are given with praise ; 
Nor rules of state, hut rules of good ; 

Who God doth late and early pray 
More of his gr^ce than gifts to lend ; 

And entertains the harmless day 
With a well-chosen book or iVii^nd. 

This nuui is freed from servile bands 
Of hope to rise, or fcare to I'all ; 

Lord of himselfe, though not of lauds ; 
And having nothing-, yet hath al]. 



it 
< >: > 



WOTTOX. 



09 




THE VIOLET. 

Shelter'!) from the blight^ ambition, 
Fatal to the pride of rank, 

See me in my low condition, 
Laughing on the tufted bank. 

On my robes, for emulation, 

No variety 's imprest : 
Suited to an humble station. 

Mine 's an unembroider'd vest. 



Langhorxe. 



1 1 

i 



ODE. 

The earthy late chok'd with showers, 

Is now array 'd in green, 
Her bosom springs with flowers. 

The air dissolves her teen ; 



100 




The woods are decked with leaves_, 
And trees are clothed gay ; 



101 



ODES AND SONNETS. 



And Flora^ crown'd with sheaves, 
With oaken boughs doth play. 

The birds upon the trees 

Do sing with pleasant voices, 

And chaunt in their degrees 
Their loves and lucky choices. 



<Q^ — 



THE DAISY. 

Daisies, ye flowers of lowly birth, 
Embroiderers of the carpet earth. 
That stud the velvet sod ; 
Open to Springes refreshing air, 
In sweetest, smiling bloom declare 
Your Maker, and my God. 



Lodge. 



Clare. 



lui 



ODES AM) SONNETS. 



* ^r ^ 



ODE TO MAY. 

Born in yon blaze of orient sky, 

Sweet May ! thy radiant form unfold, 

Unclose thy blue voluptuous eye, 

And wave thv shadowy locks of gold. 

For thee the fragrant zephyrs bloAV, 
For thee descends the sunny shower ; 

The rills in softer murmurs flow, 

And brighter blossoms gem the bower. 

Light Oraces dressed in flowery wreaths, 
And tiptoe joys their hands combine ; 
And Love his sweet contagion breathes, 
And laughing dances round thy shrine. 

Warm with new life, and glittering throngs, 
On quivering fin and rustling wing, 

Delighted join their votive songs, 

And hail thee, " Goddess of the Spring ! " 

Darwin. 



10:^ 



onns AM) SONNETS. 



•> ^ <- 



ODE. 

Come live with me, and be my love ; 
And we Avill all the pleasures prove 
That hills and valleys, dales and fields, 
Woods, or steepy mountain yields. 

And we will sit upon the rocks, 
Seeing the shepherds feed their flocks 
By shallow rivers, to whose falls 
Melodious birds sing madrigals. 

And I will make thee beds of roses, 
And a thousand fragrant posies ; 
A cap of flowers, and a kirtle 
Embroidered all Avith leaves of myrtle ; 



A gown made of the finest wool 
Which from our pretty lambs we pull ; 



lot 



ODES AND SONNETS. 



Fair-lined slippers for the cold, 
With buckles of the purest gold ; 

A belt of straw and ivy-buds, 
With coral clasps and aniljer studs : 
And, if these pleasures may thee move, 
Come live with me, and be my love. 

The shepherd-swains shall dance and sing 
For thy delight each JNIay-morning ; 
If these delights thy mind may move. 
Then live with me, and be my love. 

Marlowe 




ODK. 

HEN May is in his prmie, 

Then mav each heart rejoice : 
When May l)edecks eacli branch with green, 

Each bird strains forth his voice. 

The lively sap creeps up 

Into the blooming thorn : 
The flowers, which cold in prison kept, 

Now laugh the frost to scorn. 



105 



ODES AND SONNETS. 



All ye that live on earth, 
And have your May at will, 

Rejoiee in May, as I do no^y, 
And use your May with skill. 

Use May, while that you may, 
For May hath but his time ; 

When all the fruit is gone, it is 
Too late the tree to climb. 



Edwards. 



SONNET ON CHRISTMAS. 

With footstecp slow, in furry pall yclad, 
Ilis brow enwTeath'd with holly never sere, 
Old. Christmas comes, to close the waned year ; 
And aye the shepherd's heart to make right glad ; 
Who, when his teeming flocks are homcAvard had 
To blazing hearth repairs, and nut-brow^n beer. 
And views, well-pleas'd, the ruddy prattlers dear 
Hug the grey mongrel ; meanwhile maid and lad 
Squabble for roasted crabs. Thee, sire, we hail, 



lOfi 




^uky-^ 



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^^ 






:;.,k.KV..Ni^fmfe^i^ 







Whether thine aged limljs thou dost enshroud 
In vest of snowy white and hoary veil; 
Or wrapp'st thy visage in a sable cloud ; 
Thee we proclaim with mirth and cheer, nor fail 



To greet thee well with many a carol loud. 



Bampfvlde. 



LB S j4 



